… castle askill, enshrouded by darkness for days now, wept 1000 oceans… da story o’ me journey to da Big App needs a tellin, so dat i may find closure…

… dateline 7 april… was surrounded by harem o’ hot Thai models when Bono rung me in a panic, begged me to come to new york to help him fix his shite spidey musical… i tole him no, den he reminded me we smashed a hole tru da Clarence roof on St. Pats, so i felt i owed him… composed a peter parker love ballad on da flight over da pond, basically took a piss on a square o toily paper n wrote a better song than any o’ deres … http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7UgznCrbQ54&feature=related

… spent me first night scrutinizin every asspecked of da show… dey should turn off da dark n shed some fookin light on da stage, couldn’t see a fookin ting… mebbe it were me sunglasses… wrote tree more songs wittout battin an eye, punched up 2 udders… Bono were kissin me feet… was hopin to meet an italian or jew girl, instead fell madly in love wit a lass name Dawn Kenny from kilkenny, musical arranger for da show… i were smitten by da spidey…

… spideymess day 2: seemed like nobody were fookin directin it, payple fallin from scaffolds, yellin, pullin knives on each udder… never seen nuttin like it… took it upon m’self ta fix end of act 1, now iss fookin genius… me new love Dawn n me talked dis riggin fella into hoistin us high bove da stage soze we could snog inside da massive web… it were sticky sweet… da two of us lounged naked in superkingsize bed Pierre Hotel… watched frenchie flick called “Sur la Piste des Aigles “… couldn’t understand a fookin ting, soze instead i pretended i were blind as i kissed Dawn’s selkie-smoo skin from head to toe… halfway tru i tole her how much i loved da songs in da movie, den she said, “I wrote dem”… cut right tru me heart…

… it struck us dat dare muss be a law sayin all broadway musicals hafta be based on movies… during our vigorous lovemakin sessions, Dawn on me, it dawn on me: lets us compose a musical… so we started workin on one based on “127 Hours”… openin number “no one will know where i am”, followed by “blue john canyon blues”… after Aron meets dem 2 hot hiker chicks & dey go swimmin, dey all sing “wet in me crevice”… dis’ll be da first broadway show featurin a massive boulder-enshrouded deep cave pool, live on stage… 10 mil budget minimum…

… we worked roun da clock, wrote “tween a rock and a… nudder rock”, “mudder, can ye hear me?”… took a break to go buy wheat grass & cilantro at d’organic market, where we run into Matt Stone & Trey Parker, struck up a convo, dey give us tix to see “Book o Mormon”, good craic but on da way into da theatre, dey gives ye a pair o magic undies ye gotta wear tru out da show, mine were too tight, crunked me junk… Dawn o’ course looked radiant in hers… yearned to clone her tree times & marry all four…

… next mornin in our Pierre suite, i come up behind Dawn while she sittin at da piano, brushed her hair aside & kissed her milky shoulder, me daily requirement o’ vitamin D… wrote a song for Aron to sing after he trapped, sees crow flyin over: “Go For Help, Winged Bastard!”… den we started one bout him seein images o’ his unborn child, Dawn’s melody so sweetsad… tune overwhelmed her wit emotion, she run n lock herself in da loo, me clawin at da door… after tree hours she come out, held me tight for tree more… when ere i tried to speak, she shushed me, grabbed me face wit her hand, pressed her cheek against me chest… we fell into a deep slumber, “an affair to remember” emanatin from da tv, its soundtrack reverberatin in our dreams…

… awoke muddle of d’night clutchin d’soft supple curves of Dawn, eyes open to see: ’tweren’t her at all, ’twere d’signature Pierre hotel body pillows, 1500 thread counts o’ deception… Dawn nowhere to be found… a note on da mirror: “dear sadsexy seamus, u da love o me life, u taught me tings i never knew, pleased me in ways i never thot pussible, but there be sometin i muss do, now, and alone… i cherish u” … postscript merely read, “finish it, mount it, star in it… for me ♥”… we even thot of a log line for da poster: “cut off your right arm to get a ticket!”… too devasted to compose, i sat in a corner, flickin a switch makin d’electric window shades go up n down, Jamesons in me fist…

FollowShare on Tumblr … alone in an abandoned dingy on inishkeel… turned out, it tweren’t abandoned, Portnoo beach dweller name o Ailbhe called it home… … gentle wizened soul, let me stay da noight, promised not to eat me… also agreed to run me out to Inishkeel da next day, if da […]

FollowShare on Tumblr … day two o’me journey to enlightenment… … landed in infamous Coxtown, tole Donal ta find a humble retreat wit dirt floors n stone walls, so he booked us at five star Coxtown Manor… da boys wreaked havoc in manor bar, vowin to live up to da village […]